Page 88 of The Accidental Text

Chapter 24

The following Monday I’m in my office, working on some new hire paperwork. Chad has officially been replaced. I guess Dawson and I will have to find something new to talk about. Like the weather. Or even worse, politics. Gross.

Chad’s replacement was interviewed and hired last week, and today is his first day. I have a lovely stack of papers for him to fill out. Cooper’s is still old school when it comes to employee paperwork. Someday we’ll get with the times.

The new hire’s name is Mateo, and he’s got very dreamy eyes. I obviously didn’t tell him that when I interviewed him, because that wouldn’t be very HR of me. But I thought it in my head. They’re the darkest brown, like chocolate. And his eyelashes are every girl’s fantasy—for themselves, of course. It’s such a shame when men have beautiful, lush eyelashes. They don’t even appreciate them.

I’m feeling a little tired today since I spent the entire weekend with Chase. On Saturday we went indoor skydiving to help Chase prep for his big jump. That’s what he said anyway. I warned him that it’s not really like jumping out of a plane. Like, hardly at all. He didn’t seem to care. He loved it and it was another check mark on his adventure list.

Sunday, Chase invited me over to spend the afternoon at the park with my new boyfriend, Oscar. He didn’t actually call Oscar my boyfriend, and he did get slightly irritated when hethrew out a Frisbee for Oscar to catch and Oscar kept bringing it back to me.

I so badly want to take him while Chase is in London, but his sister, Kenzie, has already volunteered for the job. My third-story apartment wouldn’t be all that fun for a big dog anyway.

“Mags,” I hear someone say from the doorway, and look up to see Chelsea standing there. She looks a little haggard—not like someone who just got back from vacation. If you can call visiting her in-laws in Fresno with two young children in tow a vacation.

“Hey, Chels,” I say, and give her a smile.

We haven’t talked—not since the Sunday before, when I told everyone who Chase really was. I’d thought maybe since she was leaving the next day that she’d take a week to forget or at least get over it.

But by the look on her face, I can tell she’s anxious to talk to me. Which means none of that happened. What probablydidhappen is that she thought about it a lot, got worked up, and is now here to lecture me. Can’t wait.

“How was your trip?” I ask, deciding that stalling is my best tactic.

“It was … okay,” she says. She walks into my office and takes a seat in the black mesh chair across from me.

“That fun, huh?” I say.

“Well, you know. It’s … Fresno.”

I chuckle. “Right.”

“How was your week?”

“It was good,” I say. “We hired someone to replace Chad.”

“Finally,” she says. “Do you know that he tried to wrap my car?”

“What?”

“Yeah, one time Dawson told him to go get the next car from the lot and start on the door, and when Dawson came back my minivan was in the shop, and the driver’s side door was wrapped in hot pink.”

I snort laugh at that. It’s possible I might end up missing dear old Chad. At least he gave me something to laugh about—and something to talk with Dawson about.

She gets a serious look on her face. “Listen, Maggie, I’ve been thinking a lot this past week while I was gone and realized something.” She pauses to take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve been here for you enough. Since … since Mom died.”

My face falls. “Chels—”

She holds up a hand. “I was caught up in my own life, in my own grief, and I feel like I neglected you.”

“No way,” I say shaking my head. “Chelsea, making sure I’m fine isnotyour job.” Typical oldest sibling.

“I know that. I guess I just thought that since you felt the need to send those texts to Mom’s phone, maybe … I could have been more supportive. I wasn’t here for you enough, and I’m sorry.”

I’m at a loss for words. This wasn’t what I was expecting at all when she came in here. I was expecting a lecture or some sort of nudge toward therapy.

“Chels, I’ve never felt like you weren’t here for me,” I say. I let out a breath before continuing … before explaining. “Texting Mom’s phone was my thing. It wasn’t some outlet because I wasn’t getting what I needed from you or Dad or Devon. It was just … me working through my feelings. That’s all it was.”

She looks to the side, toward my wall of pictures. “Just soyou know, I’m here. You can talk or text or whatever you need.”

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